


Lights up

by Allegra_Soleil



Series: Fine Line [2]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: F/M, Porn With Plot, Smut, and there was only one bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:54:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22263670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allegra_Soleil/pseuds/Allegra_Soleil
Summary: Peter must fly after Mysterio reveals his identity. Luckily, he's not alone. Fury and Pepper have a plan and you, well, you have fun.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Reader
Series: Fine Line [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1602961
Kudos: 101





	Lights up

His lungs were on fire, his legs burning with the strain, he didn't know how much longer he was going to be able to go on. The sharp pain piercing his side was disconcerting, he used to be familiar with it, he remembered as much, but he hadn't felt it in years, not since the spider bite. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he had gotten so much as winded just from running, but he had been at it for hours now, ever since he had ditched MJ and his suit in that dingy alley in hopes of Peter Parker being a little more inconspicuous than Spider-Man. 

But by then, everyone in the city knew his face, and in the age of the internet and smartphones all it took was one single snap, one tweet, one livestream, to find himself surrounded by an angry mob, screaming for his blood, like something out of an old horror movie. All they were missing were the pitchforks and torches. There was nowhere to hide. 

So he ran. 

And he kept on running, but even he couldn't run forever. At least not without eating anything, the calorie deficiency starting to take a toll on his super-metabolism, causing him to become dizzy, his reflexes slower. 

That was probably why he didn't realize his mistake until it was too late, until he reached the intersection and found himself surrounded: He had been ambushed, led like a lamb to the slaughter. He came to a halt, turning around, looking in vain for a way out, but the circle they had arranged around him was a tight formation, he was either going to have to fight his way out or shoot a web and swing away and he could kiss goodbye any chance left at keeping his identity secret after that…

"Looks like we caught ourselves a spider, guys!"

"Not so brave now, eh boy?"

Peter cursed internally. There was no other way, falling into stance, he braced himself for the fight. But before he could make a move, he saw it. A car, a rather distinctive one, heading straight their way, and it wasn't slowing down. If anything, it seemed to speed up the closer it got to the crowd, forcing people -including Peter- to jump out of the way to avoid being run over. 

"Get in!" 

He didn't need to be told twice, jumping into the passenger seat, the car speeding away before he even got to close the door completely. You stole a glance at him. He looked tired, maybe a little pale, but uninjured. You sighed in relief. He was there, you had gotten to him on time. He was safe.

Safe and openly gawking at you.

"Y- y/n?" 

You flinched,

"Yeah, not my real name" You took your eyes off the road to give him an apologetic look, "Sorry 'bout that"

"Then who are you?" His voice was steel. So much for being grateful for saving his ass, then…

"I'm agent 16 of S.H.I.E.L.D's Special Service. I was assigned to protect you" You threw him a side-glance, "and a little 'thank you' would be nice"

Well, that explained the uniform and you driving Item 20-25. God, he was so stupid! Of course you were a spy, why else would a girl like you even give him the time of day? The pretty girls at his school weren't nice, not to him at least. But now it all made sense, down to the very first time he saw you, beaming at him as Mr. Warren pointed at the empty seat beside him. All the times your hands brushed in class, fingers lingering on test tubes and books a couple of seconds longer than necessary. All those little touches, all the secret looks when you thought he wasn't watching, it was probably all part of your mission. Probably just to get close to him, to gain his trust. After all, you had demonstrated you weren't truly interested in him when you turned down his invitation to prom. 

He had cried afterwards. Not much, not like at Ben's funeral, or when Mister Stark… No, definitely not like that, but he had shed a couple of tears that night. 

He had lost sleep and appetite over you. Lost hours daydreaming about you, about the fruity smell of your hair, wondering what your strawberry lipstick would taste like. But the truth was, after all this time, after all that staring, all that pinning he didn't know anything about you, did he? Not even...

"Can you tell me your real name?"

"You don't have the clearance for that"

You replied, turning to face him. And maybe he ought to fasten that seat belt after all, or shut up and stop distracting you from the road, cause you were still going too damn fast and breaking all traffic laws known to mankind. Mister Smith's shocked, appalled face after your driving test flashed through his mind.

"Spider-Man has a level 6 clearance" he protested.

"You need a level 9. At least." 

"I thought 9 was the highest level" Gods, his frown was adorable.

You just smirked and made another turn, driving through an entrance and a ramp that hadn't been there a second ago. 

"We're here" You announced, killing the engine. Peter didn't move.

"Where exactly is 'here'?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D's Manhattan headquarters"

You got out of the car, rounding to his side and pulling his door open, then closing it once he had gotten out. The gentleman in him protested it should be the other way around, he should be the one opening doors for you and helping you out of cars. It was absurd, of course. There, with you in that black catsuit, thigh holsters on both your legs, walking like you owned the place there was no mistaking it: You weren't y/n, his school crush; you were a highly trained special agent, escorting him through the premises.

… Pretty familiar premises, actually. 

"Avengers Tower? S.H.I.E.L.D bought Avengers Tower?"

"It was a donation, actually" you explained as the elevator's doors opened to the Stark Memorial Garden, an open garden as majestic as it was massive, located right in the heart of the building.

"A donation? But wh-"

"Peter! Oh thank god!" A relieved voice and the clicking of hills on the stone path interrupted him.

"Mrs. Stark?" Peter let himself be crushed into Pepper's chest, closing his eyes, the tears he hadn't known he was holding back starting to fall as soon as he felt safe in her embrace. 

If Tony Stark had been like a father to him, Pepper Potts-Stark was a mother trough and trough. She had tried to step into her husband's role of a mentor for Peter, knowing fully well she couldn't ever replace him or occupy his place; but she would be damned if she allowed that giant Tony shaped hole on that boy's life to go unattended, to bleed out or fester. The kid had already lost so much, almost every parent figure he had ever had. And she knew what that kind of loss could do to precocious boys with too big hearts, had seen it first hand with Tony. 

"Mrs. Stark I'm so- I'm so sorry"

"Shhh" She said soothingly, "It's not your fault. You're going to be ok, I promise. We'll figure it out" Pepper sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as him. 

"Pete! Six!" 

Peter broke the hug just in time to see a little dark haired meteor jump into your arms. He watched, stunned, as Morgan clung to you. He knew once upon a time she had been an outgoing, confident child but ever since her father's death she had grown timid. She didn't open up easily to strangers, Peter being a rare exception, and even that had been solely because of the stories Tony used to tell her about her 'super big brother' adventures. She had developed a sort of hero worship for Peter that only rivaled the one she felt for her father. For her to be so friendly towards you had to mean you had spent a considerable amount of time together, and Peter remembered the tales you used to tell in class about the adorable little girl you babysat sometimes. 

"You did it! You found him!"

You smiled at her.

"Told you I would, Morgs. And I always keep my word" He watched you squeeze her again in your arms, he could tell you cared about the kid, probably even missed her while you and him were in Europe. But the sweet reunion was short lived, as soon another voice, more stern, resonated through the garden.

"In our line of work, I'm not sure that can be considered a good thing"

You gasped in mock trepidation, making Morgan giggle and Peter smile despite himself.

"Uh-oh! We've been caught!" You passed the still laughing kid to Peter and stood straighter, trying to sober up. Peter could see the corners of your mouth twitch as you greeted, "Director" 

He gave you a nod,

"Agent. Parker, Mrs. Stark. Good, now that everybody's here, we can get a move on"

Without waiting for a reply, Nicholas Fury started walking again, leaving everyone to scramble to follow.

"I know this seems like the end of the world, Mr. Parker, and I'll admit the situation isn't ideal," the intimidating man punched a code into a hidden panel and another elevator opened. "but our main priority right now is your safety. We'll treat this like any other blown cover, following the same protocols we follow when any of our agent's identity is compromised: Immediate extraction and relocation of the agent into a safe house, with an armed escort for protection, of course" He explained as everybody climbed in.

"You're sending me away with a bodyguard?" Peter sounded less than pleased and you couldn't help the pang of sympathy. You didn't like to be pulled off the field either.

"I understand how that could be uncomfortable for you," it didn't sound like he particularly cared, though, "so perhaps it would be less unpleasant with an element you're already familiar with. Agent 16 here is going to be your companion"

"What does that means, Six?" Morgan turned to you, still perched onto Peter's torso, like a baby koala.

"It means I'm going to babysit your brother instead of you, for a while…" You threw the brunet boy a wink and his protests about not needing babysitting died on his lips. It didn't sound so bad, actually. Being cooped up with you in some secret location for an indeterminate amount of time.

"How long would we be gone?" 

"As long as it takes for the director and me to fix this" Pepper spoke with the authority only her seemed to possess, the one that could reing in crazy geniuses dash heroes and master spies alike. Fury could only nod in compliance. 

"What about May?"

"She's with Happy, already on her way to the lake house" 

Peter still looked unsure, but Pepper smiled, eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint surprisingly similar to the one her husband used to have.

"Don't worry, Peter. You'll love the safe house. I know Tony and I did…"

…

Leaving Morgan at the launch bay had been the hardest part. Her tears soaking Peter's t-shirt as Pepper tried to pry the fabric out of her little hands, were enough to break his heart. She didn't want to let her big brother go, probably terrified he wouldn't come back, just like her father. Far too perceptive for a six year old kid, she understood Peter was in trouble, in danger, and she was scared.

Peter was scared too. 

How could he not? He might be naive but he wasn't stupid, he knew that no matter the outcome of whatever plan Mrs. Stark and Fury came out with, his life as he knew it was over. 

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry" Your earnest voice pulled him out of his dark thoughts, "For lying to you, for what Beck did, for everything."

Peter stared at your profile, something he seemed to be doing a lot that day. Who was he trying to kid, he did a lot of that everyday. It actually seemed to be the only normal thing that remained, the one thing that seemed to stay constant as the world shifted and changed around him. He should be mad at you, he knew that. He should feel betrayed, hurt, and he did, a little but it was hard to stay angry at you. Even when you were partnered at school and you failed to do your part in the projects, he used to have trouble not forgiving you the second you flashed those doe eyes at him. 

He sighed,

"It's not your fault, any of it. About the lying, you were only doing your job" It wasn't your fault that he had been dumb enough to fall in love with a girl that didn't even exist. "And as for Quentin… that definitely wasn't your fault"

"My job was to protect you. If I had done it right, none of this would have happened" there was a slight catch in your voice "I should have realized he was a fraud, I should have told Nick as soon as I started having doubts about the guy, I should have stopped him before he stole E.D.I.T.H; I should have-" You turned away, pretending to get engrossed in the navigation controls of the Quinjet.

"I should have found that video and stopped it from reaching the news" You finished, voice finally under control, but still not meeting Peter's eyes.

"I was the one that literally handed E.D.I.T.H to him" You felt his hand cover yours over a lever, and looked at him in surprise. He found your eyes, a soft look in his that made your insides fill with butterflies, "He tricked me too. Do you blame me for that?"

"What? No, of course not!" 

Your indignation on his behalf warmed his chest.

"Then why blame yourself for the same thing?" 

He had a point. Luckily, you were saved from having to answer him by a blip in your instruments.

"Looks like we're here" You commented instead, initiating landing maneuvers. 

"Where is here, exactly?" He peered out of the windscreen, into the darkness of the night, trying to get a look. And who knew, with his super senses maybe he could. 

"Somewhere in the middle of the Pacific. An island, apparently, a very isolated one..."

"So you've never been here before either?"

"No, this isn't one of S.H.I.E.L.D's safe houses. This one is Mrs. Stark's" 

"Oh" Peter smiled for the first time since leaving NYC, "It must be really cool then"

"Yeah, I imagine it is" You smiled back

The house was  _ not  _ how you imagined Tony Stark's safe house would be like. For starters, the wooden construction wasn't even a house, a bungalow would have been a more appropriate title. The one-room little shack stood semi hidden by palm trees on the beach, and you knew the island was probably beautiful, but you couldn't see much in the moonless night.

Inside there wasn't much to see either, just a queen sized bed, a cupboard with a chest of drawers and a recliner by one of the windows. Ever the gentleman, Peter had offered to take the recliner, but you had rolled your eyes and pointed out the bed was big enough for the both of you. 

"I don't know why we're so surprised" Peter's voice reached you through the bathroom door, where he was changing into his pjs, "I mean, we've seen the Lake House and, sure, it's very luxurious for a cabin but that's what it is: a cabin"

"Maybe" You replied, flopping on the bed. At least it was comfy "but they have FRIDAY over there. Here we barely even have electricity"

Peter stopped in his tracks as soon as he walked into the room, and you pretended not to notice the way his eyes lingered on your exposed legs, your tiny cotton sleeping shorts not covering much at all.

"It's just, I can't possibly believe Tony Stark didn't installed any defense system on his safe house. I mean, you knew the man better than I did, but doesn't it strike you as a little… odd?"

"Huh? Ye-yeah, I mean, I…" You could see his cheeks turn red. God, he was adorable.

"Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you coming to bed?"

He choked on his own spit, and you had to suppress a giggle. Maybe, just maybe, he truly did forgive you for lying to him. Maybe you still had a chance.

…

Peter couldn't sleep. He could feel the heat coming off your skin through the small distance separating your bodies, your perfume invading his nostrils with every breath. Being so close to you in the dark was torture and yet he couldn't bring himself to get up and go to the chair on the other side of the room. He was pinned to the bed, mesmerized by your sleeping profile, enthralled by the way your chest rose and fell with every deep, steady breath. Irrevocably and inescapably drawn to you like a moth to a flame, too scared to move, too afraid to disturb your dream.

Because it appeared to be a very good dream. He could see the blush spreading from your face to your neck, all the way down to where the neckline of your tank top obscured his view. He could hear your breathing starting to quicken, feel the temperature of your skin rise. He could  _ smell you _ , sweet and enticing. Beckoning. 

Your lips parted, letting out the most captivating little sigh in the history of mankind, and his eyes zeroed in the movement, his tongue darting out to wet his own. 

Peter felt his blood rushing south and was disgusted by himself, he felt like a creep. What kind of psycho got off of watching a girl sleep? Yet he couldn't bring his eyes to avert their gaze. 

He needed to get out of there, give you some semblance of privacy, as your hips started to twitch minutely, seeking a friction they wouldn't find. You let out a soft whine and he screwed his eyes shut.  _ 'Come on Parker, get a grip on yourself' _ he thought, trying to gather enough strength to pry himself from the bed, to pry himself from your side. He was about to, he truly was, when it happened. 

You rolled over, half trapping him under your body. And it wouldn't have been hard for him to escape if he wanted to. But he really  _ really _ didn't want to. The voice inside his head telling him it was wrong was growing weaker and weaker with every pretty noise leaving your mouth. Your hot breath was searing against the skin of his chest and he both cursed and blessed the instant he decided to forego wearing a t-shirt to bed in the sultry island heat. 

"Peter" You murmured in your sleep and his heart stopped. You were dreaming about  _ him _ . You were panting and burning up for  _ him _ , and he knew it didn't necessarily mean anything and dreams were  _ not _ real life, but your legs fell open, one knee on either side of one of his, and he could actually feel your warm wetness through the thin fabric of your sleeping shorts and his threadbare plaid pajama pants and  _ fuck! _

Whatever last trace of logic might remained in his brain flew out the window as you started rubbing yourself on his thigh, finally finding the friction you so desperately needed. His hand went to your waist to stop you, but it ended up aiding you instead, sliding to your lower back, pressing down and releasing rhythmically, rocking you against his leg harder. 

He glared at the traitorous appendage, but how could he reproach it it's betrayal, when you were moaning so sweetly? He wanted to commit those sounds to his memory, to tattoo them on his brain to play over every night when he'd found himself alone on his cold bed, one hand around his length and the other over his mouth to stop himself from yelling your name at the ceiling, as he had so many times before. 

You breathed out his name again, and his free hand went to his pelvis, of its own volition. He palmed himself over his pants, but that's as far as he would let himself go. He refused to be the guy who jerked himself off next to an unconscious girl. 

A new wave of moisture left your core, soaking his skin through the fabrics. 

" _ Fuck _ !" He cursed softly, head hitting the tall headboard as he threw it back.

"Peter?" 

He froze. No.  _ Oh god, please no _ . He lowered his gaze to you, and watched in horror as your eyes went from his left hand above his crotch, your own position on top of him, then finally, to his face. He was dead. If you didn't kill him for molesting you in your sleep, the shame would probably finish him. Although he firmly believed it was going to be the former. He could actually see it, the storm brewing in your eyes, the adrenaline dilating your pupils, getting you ready to fight. 

"I'm sorry. I am so so-" You muffled his apologies with your lips. Ok, maybe not to fight. 

Peter had never been kissed before, not like that. And, as your lips continued to move against his, sensual yet firm, demanding, he felt like he hadn't at all. Nothing he had ever felt before compared to this, to the taste of your tongue on his, to the smell of your hair, falling on his face, to the touch of your hands, splayed on his chest, fingers tracing the hard planes hungrily. 

He spun you over, so it was you with your back on the mattress, and him hovering above you. He didn't recognize the sound leaving his throat as you opened your legs and he fell between them, as you buried your fingers on his curls and tugged, as his mouth left yours to explore your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. He watched in awe as your own hand lowered a strap of your tank top down your shoulder, until one gorgeous, perfect breast was bared to him,  _ for him _ . He wasted no time imitating your movements with your other strap, maybe a little too enthusiastically, snapping it. You giggled.

"So-sorry" he mumbled, "I've never… done this before" 

You bit your lip.

"Do you want to?"

He met your eyes, a feverish, almost crazed look in his own.

"Yes. God, yes!" 

You tugged him to you again, and this time, it was him crashing his mouth on yours, nibbling at your lips, forcing his tongue inside. He started rolling his hips against yours on instinct, the movement rubbing his delicious pecs against your hard nipples with every drag of his hips. The feeling of skin on skin was driving you wild. You needed more.

"Rip it off" you panted into his mouth

"Wha-?"

"My top," you broke the kiss to command, "rip it off me. I know you can do it" he was certainly strong enough. He fisted his hand on the fabric and tugged. It tore as easily as if it were paper. He sat back to admire his work.

"Wow…" 

You smiled. Whatever self-consciousness you could have felt, disintegrating at the wonderstruck look on his face. You brought your hands to your breast, massaging, tugging, rolling your nipples between your fingers, eyes never leaving his. 

"You are so beautiful" He marveled under his breath and you weren't sure you were supposed to hear that, but you were glad that you did. You were a spy, beauty wasn't much of a virtue to you. It was a tool, a weapon, a disguise. You knew how to fake it or hide it, depending on what the mission required. But here there was nowhere to hide. Peter was seeing you exactly for who and what you were, and he still wanted you. 

"Lose the pants" You demanded, trying to regain control, "and sit against the headboard"

His hands were shaking as he took both his pants and his boxers off in one go. This time it was your time to marvel, not only at his size (although it was considerable) but also at his shape. He was perfect: thicker than your biggest toy, but not that long. That was better anyway, since you were going to be able to ride him hard, with no fear of stabbing your cervix on it. He was cut, too, but considering his religion that wasn't surprising.

"Fuck! Even your cock is pretty"

Peter blushed but said nothing as he sat exactly like you had ordered. You made quick work of your shorts but kept your underwear. His eyes went wide as he saw the lace and you knew you had made the right call. You straddled his thighs, wrapping your hand around his cock, and his head fell back.

"Fuck!" He cursed. He was so responsive and obedient, there was definitely a submissive streak in him and you were dying to explore it. Maybe later.

His hands slid up the back of your thighs until they reached your butt, where they slipped under the lace. 

You pumped his cock once, twice, three times, tearing as many moans out of him. The fourth one was muffled by your lips on his.

You only broke the kiss when you were light headed, and he chased after your lips, whining softly when you stayed away. Peter finally opened his eyes, resting his forehead against yours, warm brown eyes boring into you even in the dark.

"Pete, are you sure?"

"Yes. God, yes! I wanted this," he confessed, "I wanted you, for so long…"

You averted his eyes. 

"What about…" You trailed off. You weren't sure that you wanted to know the answer to what you were about to ask. But you had to, it would annihilate you if Peter regretted this later. "What about MJ?"

You sounded so unsure, so vulnerable, so unlike the badass secret agent persona he had met that afternoon… Peter realized you weren't only letting him see your body, you were letting him see  _ more _ , something more intimate: you were letting him see  _ you _ . 

He kissed you again, softer, slower, cradling your face in his hands, lips moving against yours until he felt you sigh and relax into his embrace. He broke the kiss but his lips never left your skin, placing delicate butterfly kisses on your cheeks, on your jaw.

"It's you. It's always been you" Besides, he had kind of broke up with her when he left her in that alley. Even if he hadn't realized he was in love with someone else, he would have done it, for her own safety. But you knew how to take care of yourself, he didn't need to protect you from his love. He only needed you to accept it. 

And you seemed to do it. Or at least, you had accepted his answer, reaching down between your bodies, finding his cock again. You slid the head up and down your slit, and his hands left your face to grab onto the iron rail of the headboard above his head. You leaned back to look into his eyes, one hand braced on his shoulder, the other guiding him inside you, inch by delicious inch.

Peter looked down. Your lacy panties where completely ruined, tugged to the side, trim patch of curls visible just above where his thick shaft disappeared inside you. It was dirty, and obscene and perfect. 

You were perfect. All tight, wet heat around him. Burning him, lighting him up inside, so hot he could feel you browning his skin so right. You were the sun, sparking up what should have been his darkest night. 

By the time you had taken him all the way in, you were as breathless as him. 

"You ok?" 

"More than" Peter gasped. You noticed his hands around the headboard and lifted an eyebrow. "Do-don't… don't wanna hurt you" he explained and you nodded your understanding, before lifting yourself up a few inches, eyes never leaving his as you sank right back down. 

He was beautiful like that, eyes glossy with desire, mouth agape, muscles straining with the effort to keep his hands off you. You had a vision of his hands tied to that very same bed as you screwed yourself hard on his cock, and you vow to yourself to make it a reality before your time on the island was over. You started to build a rhythm, wave after wave of pleasure hitting you as you jumped on the most incredible cock, filling you up so good, so completely, it seemed made just for you. 

"God, you feel so good!"

"Tell me" he begged, sounding desperate, wrecked, as you rode him mercilessly, "please"

"So hard" you moaned, your own hands trailing your tits, your neck, pulling at your hair, "so deep… Fuck, I love this cock!" 

"Fu-fuck!" Peter's hips started bucking up, trying to meet yours. It didn't take long for him to succeed, thrusting up every time you came down, going deeper, hitting your clit just so with his pubic bone.

"Yes! Just like that… you're doing so well, baby boy"

Your praise ignited something inside him, hands letting go of the headboard to wrap around your waist, helping you move. 

You cried out, feeling the heat starting to build 

"Like that, yes, Peter… just like that… keep going"

"I- I can't!.. 'm sorry, I'm gonna… I'm…"

Then you felt it. The little contractions, the warm -warmer than human's- liquid painting your insides. You stopped moving.

"Oh god! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" Peter hid his face with his hands, ashamed, humiliated. You didn't know what to say, too stunned to even get up from his lap. 

"I'm so so sorry!" He kept on babbling, "It's just… you're really hot and… I'd never-"

"Felt something like that?" You spoke at last, trying to pry his hands away from his face to look at him, "Yeah, I know. It was your first time, it was bound to happen. It's completely normal…"

Right. Of course that was the  _ one way _ he had to be normal. You started to get up, but his hands flew from his face to your hips to stop you.

"No!" He pleaded, eyes full of tears of shame, of frustration. "You didn't…"

You shook your head,

"Peter, it's ok, I enjoyed it, trust me" 

"But it doesn't have to be over" his grip on your hips tightened, "I can keep on, see?"

He bucked his hips and you felt him start to harden again inside you.

"Pete, I  _ like _ you" maybe a little too much, "You don't have to prove anything to me" 

Peter squared his jaw, a new determination igniting within his eyes, making you gulp.

He was going to be damned if he didn't make you come your first time together.

He rolled on top of you, trapping you under his body, still connected to you.

"Tell me you don't want it" He defied, thrusting into you, making you gasp despite yourself.

"I don't want it"

"Liar" he smirked, rolling his hips again, and again. And again, until he was fucking you into the mattress. Maybe he wasn't as submissive as you had first thought. He hooked your legs on his elbows, pushing them up as he pushed into you harder, deeper. 

"You sure this is your first time?" You kidded.

"Told you… wanted you… so long… thought 'bout this… so much" it was getting harder and harder to form complete thoughts, nevermind sentences, especially with you arching your back like that, eyes closing, mouth opening. 

"Really?" You said between moans, "What did you think about?"

"About tasting you" He replied, licking into your open mouth, "about… coming all over your beautiful body… About making you come, over and over, until you beg me to stop…"

He let go of one of your legs to trail his hand up and down your body, taking a detour to play with your breasts, massaging just the way he had seen you do it before, first one, then the other one. You arched your back almost impossibly, pressing yourself into his touch. Your hips started to move but he held you still, splaying his hand just between your hips. 

"If you do that I won't last much, again. And you feel too good to stop…"

You had a feeling he could still just flip you over and fuck you again. You felt his hand on your breast being replaced by his tongue, as his free arm wrapped itself around your waist, lifting you, changing the angle. 

"There" He declared, almost triumphantly as he started grinding against your g-spot with every stroke, making you see stars, every nerve ending in your body coming alight. He could actually feel the different texture of that tiny patch of skin inside you, eyes rolling back every time the head of his cock grazed it. 

Never again was he going to complain about his super senses, not when you were squeezing him so good, shaking in his arms, fingernails digging into his back deep enough to draw blood. 

"Yes, just like that babe, let me feel you come. I wanna feel it baby, I wanna…"

You came screaming his name, and he thrusted into you a couple more times, help in you ride it out. Then he slid out of you, just in time to paint your chest, your belly in white ribbons, marking you as his.

He fell, boneless on top if you, but his weight was comforting rather than suffocating. 

"We're gonna need a safe word" You commented, casually, as if you weren't trying to catch your breath after the best, most mindblowing sex you had had in your short, violent life. 

Peter raised his head from your neck to look at you, confused frown marring his lovely face. 

"If you're really planning on making me come until I beg you to stop, you're gonna need to know when I'm  _ really _ asking you to stop" You explained, "Ergo, we're gonna need a safe word" 

His eyes went wide, freezing for a few seconds. And then he was kissing you with all he had.

"You, Agent 16, are amazing" He declared, peppering your face with chaste, sweet little kisses.

You laughed, batting his shoulder to get him off you.

"I know, but get off me! We need another shower, You made us all dirty!"

"Or…" He pondered, rolling off you and getting out of the bed, "We could go skinny dipping, get out and get even more dirty…"

You took the hand he offered,

"Oh, I like the way you think, Peter Parker!" 

…

"You know, if you had told me twelve hours ago that something good could come out of Beck exposing my identity and making the whole world believe I'm a murderer, I would probably had call you insane…"

You were laying on the beach, hours later, head on Peter's chest, as the golden rays of sunrise started to appear on the horizon. He had kept his promise, the both of you covered in sand from head to toe after round three… or was it four? 

"You know it doesn't matter, right? What they think, I mean" You stated, as if it was the simplest of facts, "Nick's never going to let you go to jail, and Pepper is not going to allow anyone talk shit about you. She's probably already sending lawsuits to every website and news channel that reproduced that video. They can't touch you"  _ I won't let them _ .

"So yeah, the gig is up. The lights are up and they know your identity. They know your name and they are going to talk. But they don't matter. As long as you know who you are, they don't matter, the things they say don't matter." 

"No offence, Sixteen" Peter noted, never stopping caressing your back, "but… that's a little rich coming from you"

"I could tell you my name, the one my parents gave me, I mean, you could do a little background checking" You shrugged, "But I'm not that girl anymore. Hell, I think if my parents saw me on the street, they wouldn't recognize me!"

"I'm sorry" Peter could recognize the melancholy behind your nonchalance. Just a few hours, and he was already becoming an expert on you. He realized he was starting to understand what you meant.

"It's ok, I barely miss them now. Maybe I didn't die in the blip, but sometimes I think that girl did… I'm definitely more Sixteen than her, now. The whole secret identity thing is more for their protection than anything"

Peter thought of May, hiding away in the Lake House. Yeah, he could relate to that. He didn't need a name to know who you were. What was in a name after all? Romeo and Juliet had gotten it right; a rose by any other name would smell just as sweet. 

And yes, it would have been easier if things stayed the same, but if they had he wouldn't have you. If stepping into the light was the price he had to pay to keep you, then so be it. As you fell asleep in his arms and the whole world woke up to #Spider-Man trending in every social media, there was no going back. 

Peter Parker was never going back into the shadows.


End file.
